


Frosty Tongue of Healing

by Sparcina



Series: How Frostiron Could Have Started [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Healing Sex, Healing tongue, Loki does what he want, Loki obliges, M/M, Magic Healing, Rape Aftermath, Rimming, Thor thinks he has a good idea, Tony Needs a Hug, nothing explicit about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8422675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: Want tore through him as Loki started to thrust harder. The god moved his tongue in earnest, hands clenching and unclenching on his thighs in a steady rhythm. This was healing; Tony knew it, felt it, but it was also an intimate gesture that reminded him that sex could be good, that his ass would still be open for business when he was over the shock of the aggression, or right now, as an exception, because Loki was a damn fine exception, and he used his tongue like he'd had centuries to practice rimming, which he might actually have.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goddamnhella](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Goddamnhella).



> I gift this OS to the great goddamnhella, who has left us on A03... Fortunately, her fics are still online!

Loki wrinkled his nose in disgust. A stale, sharp smell permeated the bedroom.

“You stink of sickness, Stark.”  

Tony pulled the covers to his chin, trying not to let that comment hurt–and dismally failing. Months among the Avengers hadn’t yet taught the Asgardian how to handle tortured, raped humans. Tony didn’t really hold it against him. Nevertheless, he wished the other wouldn’t show up unannounced in his fortress complaining about how he chose to spend his convalescence. He was the victim here, damn it.

“Well, if that is so unbearable, feel free to leave.” On those clipped words, he pretended Loki had left and tried to sleep. He knew he would need at least a couple of hours before Morpheus showed a hint of interest.

But Loki, of course, wouldn’t be so easily deterred.

“I have been asked to heal you.”

“Heal me?” _Like, in tandem with the leprechaun at the infamous end of the rainbow?_  

“It has occurred to my brother that I am uniquely qualified.”

Loki didn’t look exactly pleased by the prospect, Tony gathered from a quick glance over his shoulder. He began to wonder what exactly the concept of ‘healing’ entailed for those aliens. His hands moved on their own, stretching the covers until they hid everything under his eyes. Protection. Hiding. His reptilian brain was overwhelmingly almighty these days. No, he wouldn’t think again about the why, it was clear enough from the pain between his…

“I am here to help.”

His voice was clearer; he had come closer. Dread pooled in Tony’s belly. That intense gaze focused on him–entirely, resolutely–reminded him only too well of the appreciative leers of the guards right before they ganged up on him and pulled down his… stretched, excruciatingly… so much _pain_ …

“Stark. Breathe.”

Tony hadn’t even noticed he was hyperventilating. Suddenly, Loki was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand on his shoulder. Solid. Authoritarian. Tony obeyed the fight-or-free reflex–or in that case fight- _and_ -flee–and fought that fragile-looking hand, but it was anything but fragile, really, of course, and he, Tony Stark, was absolutely powerless in his own bedroom, and didn’t that suck?

“I shall endeavor not to hurt you.” Loki’s voice had gone softer on the last word. His eyes, however, those perfectly shaped emeralds, retained an intensity that twisted his insides.

“What… will you… how is…?”

“I am merely to drink the pain away, at the source. But first I will have to clean you.”

“At the source? Clean… just wait a minute!”

Tony squealed like a little girl but couldn’t care less; Loki had magicked the sheets away, exposing his naked, sweating body. Forcing him to something he didn’t want. A long time ago, Tony might have welcomed the wild sex session that the act would have promised; after his recent aggression, he saw red.

“You…”

Loki stopped effortlessly the fist directed at his face and locked Tony’s wrist above his head, using only so much force as necessary to hold him still. Tony panted hard. A hundred different insults battled on his tongue, but his breath left him as Loki trailed his free hand up his tight. A shiver ran up Tony’s back as that hand disappeared between his legs, as a thumb caressed–caressed!–his buttock and one slender, long, cold finger brushed the core of his pain…

He shouted and blushed and moaned in quick succession. He couldn’t move much, and he suspected magic was at work. He should have felt rage at being used, but the sheer coldness of that finger bested the most expensive analgesic balms on the black market. He locked gazes with Loki, marveling at the impossibility of the moment, at how surreal it felt. Yep, he had been used as a plaything only last week, and now he had Loki sitting on his bed–no, hovering above him, _god_ –, one long, cold, blessing finger at his entrance.

The digit circled once more against the tight, inflamed ring of sore muscles. A gush of wind entered him, cold and unexpected. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt much. _That had to be the cleaning part_ , Tony though, both dismayed and relieved for some reason he really didn’t want to consider too closely. He had been used, damn it. He shouldn’t be enjoying, even remotely, any part of the current treatment. But then Loki was staring at him like _that_ , and that was a God helping a mortal. The usual rules of civility didn’t apply in that kind of situation.

“Oh…”

He could feel how that finger entered him. It was now knuckle-deep into his wounded ass, rotating slowly, painting relief on every inch it brushed. Loki had a focused look to him; his lips were open on foreign words, his lids half-closed. Tony felt a tear slid down his cheek. A sob built in his throat.  

“Now that you are clean, I can proceed.”

Tony wished to comment how awkward this whole situation was–Loki had a finger in his ass, after all. Didn’t they do sex on Asgard? Did Loki understand the double meaning of his gesture, the lubricity and sensuality that was both a threat and a blessing? Tony had never considered Loki as a potential lover, and after what had transpired back _there_ , he hadn’t expected to consider anybody in that particular light for a while.

But Loki felt good. Kind of over-the-top good. And that had just been the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.

“Don’t try and kick me, or I will resume the immobilization spell, Stark.”

“Right.”

That was the only thing Tony could utter before his jaw dropped.

Loki was presently kneeling on the bed, his face between Tony’s trembling tights. Tony caught the glint of green eyes before the most amazing sensation he had ever known shot pure endorphin through his veins. He could barely wrap his mind around what was happening, but he couldn’t ignore it either. The sucking noises, that moisture, those muscles working… It hurt at first, but as soon as Loki darted his tongue all the way in, a current of relief swept through Tony. 

He had been on the receiving end of a rim job before. It had been awkward, but pleasant. This… This… was _Loki_ , a god, thrusting his tongue in and out his bruised ass to heal him, because that was what he had said he could do.

_I am here to help._

Loki was making small noises now, and Tony couldn’t place them; he was himself panting loudly, grabbing the sweat-drenched sheets in a fierce attempt to keep his hips in Loki’s control.

Want tore through him as Loki started to thrust harder. The god moved it in earnest, hands clenching and unclenching on his thighs in a steady rhythm. This was healing; Tony knew it, felt it, but it was also an intimate gesture that reminded him that sex could be good, that his ass would still be open for business when he was over the shock of the aggression, or right now, as an exception, because Loki was a damn fine exception, and he used his tongue like he'd had centuries to practice rimming, which he might actually have.

Tony was too far gone to feel shame as precum leaked from his throbbing cock. Loki continued thrusting that tongue into him, lapping everywhere that still hurt, shedding snow and ice where fire had taken hold.   

“Loki, _Loki…_ ”

 _That god doesn’t need no fucking leprechaun_ , thought Tony before his vision became a binary night sky of white stars. He might have told Loki to move, and Loki might have sunk his nails harder into his thighs, tongue fitted to the very edge of his ass. He felt lips close around his hole, and those lips sucked on torn flesh and blew paradise all the way up his arc reactor. Tony came in a fountain of white relief.

Then he passed out. It must not have been long, because when he opened his eyes again, Loki was still on the bed, sitting on his heels, collecting a last drop of semen on his cheek.

“I’m…” Tony stuttered. Part of him wanted to apologize, part of him wished to tell the god how stunning he was with _his_ cum on his face.

“I trust you feel better,” Loki said in his usual drawl, and got up.

“I’m sorry you had to do this.”

He had said it before he could stop himself, before he could be a coward. Loki arched an eyebrow and stared hard at him, long enough for Tony to do something he hadn’t indulged in a while: blush.

“I only do what I wish to,” the god said, the tiniest smile playing on his lips. “Get better, Stark.”

Tony fell back on his pillow, heart still racing. Really, he didn’t know why he had ever considered seeing a psychiatrist after last week when he had Loki to call upon.

He slept well that night, dreaming of greenery.     


End file.
